Her Snow White Gloves
by TheWeepingTurtle
Summary: Isabel turned to see a tall male with bright, glowing eyes and ruby red hair. He looked unhappy, but the frown obviously didn't suit his face. She caught a glimpse of something sharp between those plush lips of his as she tightened her grip on the photo. "Is it yours?" (Kuroshitsuji / Black Butler)
1. Pulled In

"Sebas-chan darling!"

Brown, wavy locks of chocolate waterfalls tumbled and splashed over the petite shoulders of one Isabel Whitewood as she turned to the right, her ears perking up to the sound on the white roof of a nearby bakery.

Smiling to herself, she continued to stroll down the cobblestone, a small, frilly parasol resting against her shoulder as her yellow dress flared around her in the London breeze. The voice had been passed off and named as a sound of the bustling neighborhood.

A few gentlemen tilted their hats to her, and she nodded with a small smile. A slight glow resonated from her cheeks when a man passing by smiled cheekily as he let his eyes wander. Turning away quickly, Isabel coughed into her snow-gloved hand as she headed toward the bakery.

"Oh-!"

She perked up again. Though this time it had not been the voice to captivate her, but a single, small picture fluttering through the breeze. Picking up the sides of her dress, she quickly moved to it, her yellow and white shoes dirtying as she made her way through the grass and away from the hustle and bustle of Market Street.

An oak tree grasped it, the boughs held proudly up into the sky as if it had won a few hundred pounds. "Oh dear," she said quietly as she tilted up on her toes and plucked it from the branches. Looking down at it, she blew a stray hair from her face.

An unwilling participant was what she saw. A small frown creased the edges of his features as he held a mixing spoon at the taker, a metal bowl of something in the crook of his arm. His mouth was partly open as if he were about speak. Looking to the corner of the picture, she noticed a tiny wisp of red hair.

"Give me that!"

Isabel turned to see a tall male with bright, glowing eyes and ruby red hair. He looked unhappy, but the frown obviously didn't suit his face. She caught a glimpse of something sharp between those plush lips of his as she tightened her grip on the photo. "Is it yours?"

He scowled as he approached her, a strand of dark beads rattling against his leg as he walked. "Give it," he said simply.

Something about this man sent her on edge. "Yes of course, sir," she replied with a small, inaudible gulp as she tried to hand it to him.

Snatching it from her grasp, the man studied the photo before screeching loudly, his eyes widening. Whipping back to her, he growled. "It's ruined! Ripped!" He shook the paper up in the air as if to prove his point. "I'll need to take another one! My Sebas-chan can't be seen like this!"

She didn't think that he wanted to be seen anyway, but she supposed that her opinion didn't matter in this situation. "Yes, I suppose you will have to," she bit out before she could stop herself, annoyance clearly heard in her tone.

He grinned as he dropped the photo unceremoniously on the ground. "Yes, _you_ shall," he emphasized as he pushed his hair out of his face dramatically. Making another dramatic hand gesture, a small, colorfully painted camera popped into existence in the palm of his hand.

The burnette's sapphire eyes widened. "W-what are you?" Backing up a step, she bumped into the stump of an old oak tree and fell on her rump, a small hissing sound resonating from the back of her throat.

"What am I? Why, dear, I am a grim reaper. Grell Sutcliff," he continued.

"R-r-reaper?"

He tsked. "Yes dear, one 'r' is enough, thank you." Raising a brow at her clothing attire, he scowled. "You will _not_ be capturing my beautiful love in a photograph looking like _that._ "

His words stung, but she tried to pay it no mind as she slowly shuffled back, hoping that another person, another _human_ would pass by. "T-then perhaps you c-could leave me be?" she tried, a small thorn pricking her palm through her cheaply made glove.

"Ah, I suppose I could lend you something," the redhead continued to himself, completely ignoring her almost silent plea. Looking back to her, he started to approach. He grabbed her arm and flicked his wrist, a shimmering circle popping into life before him. "I normally wouldn't care for a human in helping me, but I suppose now would be alright," he commented as he walked through the portal and pulled her with him.

Isabel painfully landed on cool, hard flooring. "Woops! I let go of your arm, didn't I?" She grimaced as she realized he didn't exactly care. Getting up and dusting off her now dirty dress, she looked around.

A regular office.

Grell turned to Isabel. "We need to be quick, dear. Will doesn't know I keep clothing in here, and he could enter at any time." A hint of a warning was laced with his words, putting her on even more edge.

Opening a drawer behind some files, the reaper pulled out a few extremely short dresses. Studying them, he put two of them away before holding out the last one for her to see.

Her cheeks churned rosy. "I-it'll show my legs!"

Grell scowled. "And what's wrong with that?" he replied, moving to pull off her current attire.

"W-w-what are you doing!?" she screeched as she tried to hit at his arms.

"Shush, dear. William could hear. Besides," he continued, grinning, "we're both ladies." Isabel didn't think so.

"Let go, please!" she pleaded as he slipped the dress off, leaving her in only her white corset and short bloomers. Her cheeks immediately turned into tomatoes as she struggled harder.

"If you continue to struggle I might decide to kill you," he hissed into her ear, pleased with himself as she immediately stopped. "Now…" He quickly slipped on the frilly red dress, the bottom of it only reaching her knees. "There we go, hon! You look beautiful!"

Discarding the yellow dress to a bin in the corner of the office, Grell grinned to himself. "How is it?" he asked her, a finger moving up to twirl a lock of red hair. All he got in response was a frustrated sigh which he soon returned.

"Who's in my office?" a voice suddenly boomed from the other side of the door.

"W-Will!" Grell shrieked as he grabbed her wrist and flung them through the portal just as the door swung open.

"Sutcliff!"

And the shimmering circle closed with a snap.

Isabel clung to Grell's arm, intent on not falling onto the floor harshly as they flew through the portal once more. Reaching the other side, she quickly let go, fear coursing through her veins. "W-who was that?" she asked fearfully, her eyes wide.

The redhead tsked. "William," was all he offered as he assessed her. "I suppose that will do," he continued, walking up to her and grabbing her arm again. "Let us be off then. I don't have all day."

Opening another shimmering circle, he flung them through once more, landing safely on the plush grass of the other side. Isabel glanced around as the grip on her arm tightened, wary of her surroundings. "Where..?"

The red reaper dropped his hold, dancing around in place with excitement. "O-h!" he screeched, shoving the camera into her petite hold as he bounded up to a small window set into the side of a large, inviting mansion.

Following, Isabel peaked in through the window, her gloved hand reaching out slowly to touch the cool glass cautiously as she peered inside.

The same scene from the photo.

"Hurry up!" Grell hissed, knocking her from her slight reverie. "Before he notices!"

Glancing around, the brunette lifted the camera up to her eye, her lashes barely brushing up against the colorfully painted wood as she struggled to keep it still. Moving the camera ever so slightly, the rays from the sun caught a piece of metal just right, shining it directly into the kitchen.

The raven inside looked up.

"Oh dear, pests again?" The demon smirked ever so slightly as he dropped his metal bowl and jumped up to the window just as the camera snapped.

Isabel jumped backwards into Grell, terrified as the demon was merely inches away. "P-p-please don't hurt me!" she shrieked quietly, trying to back up further.

"D-dear, we should get going!" the reaper yelled as he snatched her by her waist and bounded out of there. The demon did not follow.

"Must that pest of a reaper always interrupt me while I am busy?" he muttered to himself, going back to his baking.

Isabel huffed, pushing the redhead away from her. "H-here, take it," she said quickly, pushing the brightly colored camera into Grell's arms. "Now let me go home." She was no longer going to beat around the bush.

The reaper scowled, looking at the picture that popped out of the top. He growled lightly, turning to face the young woman as he crumpled the tiny, shiny photo into a little ball. "It's blurry!"

Horrified, Isabel took a step back. "I took it like you said; y-you never said it had to be perfect."

"It was implied!" he hissed before bringing a gloved hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fine, fine. You may go." A shiny portal snapped open just in front of her, causing her to jump, her shiny shoes skidding slightly in the greenery.

"Through there?"

He tsked. "Yes, yes. Go on before I change my mind."

Hesitantly bringing a foot forward, she stepped through the circle, hesitating for a second before being shoved the rest of the way in. Falling on her face, she groaned slightly as she moved her snow-gloved hands to push herself up, the portal snapping shut just behind her.

The oak tree.

"Are ye alright, miss? Ye seem ta be in a pickle, if I might say."

The brunette hesitantly looked up, but all she saw was a silhouetted figure against the sun. "Yes, yes; I'm fine," she reassured him as she tried to push up again. Her delicate arms failed her.

A mirth-filled chuckle resonated through the air. "Here, let me help ye." A colorfully-dressed man bent down, offering a friendly hand with a smile. Shyly grasping it, Isabel picked herself up, assessing her savior closely.

She offered a simple thanks.

"Twas a pleasure." The strange man bowed before walking off, the smile immediately leaving his face as a shadow fell over his eyes.

The lady watched him go, silently thankful that someone was willing to lend a hand. Dusting off her dress, she glanced around before quickly scampering off to her lonely home. No need to waste time and dawdle now.

Long fingers of dawn's first light struck the sky-scraping tower of Big Ben, the light hitting his face just as his largest hand moved passed the numeral six.

Isabel yawned, stretching her delicate arms above her as she glanced around the room drowsily. "Perhaps it was… a dream," she convinced herself, getting reluctantly out of her soft bedding as she let her bare feet strike the floor. She immediately recoiled. _Cold!_

After a second of grumbling, she reunited the bottoms of her feet with wood as she moved to the dresser, changing out of her nightgown and into something more suitable for a public presence.

In the corner of the room sat the carelessly tossed aside red dress. It laid forgotten as she slipped on a pair of shoes and started to walked toward her door.

Tap, tap, pause, tap, tap, tap.

A shingle slid down the roof and fell just outside Isabel's open window, causing her to jump back slightly in fright. Curious, she approached her sill, and immediately recoiled as another red shingle plummeted to the cobblestone below. She cringed as she heard someone shout from the first story below.

Looking back up and out, her eyes widened as she saw a certain redhead dangling on the edge of her home's roof. "Y-you!"

"Me."

Pulling her head back inside, she swept her hair to the side as she bit one of her fingernails on her right hand. "He exists!"

"I'm a lady, darling, not a man."

Sighing lightly, she sucked in a deep breath and poked her head back outside the window and into the chilly, crisp London breeze. "You're back."

"I am."

"Why..?" Her stomach turned fearfully as she awaited his answer.

He grinned as he held onto the stormdrain and dropped down, hanging directly in front of her bedroom window. "I wished to see you again. Having work to do can be dreadfully boring, so I'd hoped you would spice it up a bit." He winked at her. "Spend a little ladies time together?"

"Absolutely not."

The window slammed in his face, his grip on the rusty drain faltering before slipping. He plummeted, noticed by no one as he crashed painfully onto the cobblestone below. "How rude!"

She went into the next room and ran a hand through her long locks as she snatched an apple from her small kitchen counter and bit into it gracefully, wiping the juice running down her chin with a small cloth. The smell of fresh fruit wafted around her nostrils before it was gone, as she had lowered her hand.

Turning, she was startled as she noticed Grell leaning up against her white wall, casually painting his nails. "...How did you get in here?"

"How do you think?" His eyes never left his cherry red fingernails.

"...You have a good point."

He simply hummed, continuing on with his business.

"Do you plan telling me what you want?" she asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking warily to the colorful chainsaw propped against the wall.

Letting his nail polish pop out of existence, Grell glanced up at her from examining his nails. "A surprise, dear, a surprise." He strode over to her before grabbing her arm and jumping through a hastily opened portal. Isabel didn't even have the time to contemplate the situation.

The grin never left his face.


	2. In Trouble

"Well hello there!"

Isabel turned a second after, her delicate feet skidding on oak. A strong arm shot out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her to face the blond. "That's no way to say hello, dear."

Chocolate waves bounced as she gulped, rolling her shoulders lightly as she allowed herself to glance at the other reaper. "Hello..."

"Hey! Say, senpai, why'd you bring a human here? I thought Spears-senpai forbid you from-"

Grell quickly waved his hands. "She's simply an interest of mine."

The girl allowed herself to look down as she tried to compose a smile. Looking back up, she focused on the acidic green eyes of the blond. "My name is Isabel, s-sir."

He chuckled. "Lighten up! The name's Ronald Knox. Nice to meet ya, pretty lady."

She would have snorted if he were anyone else. "I-I'm not..."

"Course you are!" His eyes glinted as he brought a tall, glistening glass of bubbling liquid up to his mouth. "Got any plans tonight?"

Blood rushed to her cheeks. "N- Yes! I do!"

He let a sound escape his throat. "Aww, that's too bad," he replied in disappointment. "Senpai, don't have too much fun."

Isabel's mouth dropped open. "Wha-"

"Excuse me! I am a LADY!" he screeched, grabbing Isabel's arm tightly. "Let's go dear. I have no more interest in this visit."

 _If you could call it a visit at all,_ she immediately thought afterward.

It took them approximately ten minutes to walk back to her home. Grell had decided to stop using his faster (and _unique_ , Isabel would add begrudgingly) form of travel. The (obviously insane) redhead had previously taken her to a variety of shops throughout London, and now her feet ached an incredible amount.

 _...and why I agreed to this was beyond me._

The brunette felt slightly comfortable around the taller reaper now. He had released no more threats of death or punishment, and was perfectly content with dragging a human around the whole of London. How tiring it was, being pulled into dress or shoe shops one after another.

After several hours, Grell had suddenly announced that he wanted Isabel to meet another reaper. He would not release the details, though nervousness was not a new emotion during these past two days. Thus the young lady had found herself in front of a widely known bar in the city.

Isabel curtsied to the redhead as they stopped in front of the door that led to her home. Though she still had a few flights of staircases to climb, she would rather climb them all by her lonesome. "Thank you, Grell. I appreciated the day. It was... interesting."

He grinned. "We should do this again sometime!" The reaper opened the door and entered, much to Isabel's dismay.

"Grell-"

"I shall walk the rest of the way with you."

"But-"

"It is a _pleasure_ ," he emphasized.

"Yes, sir," she quickly replied, scrambling to get inside the brick building and shut the door. The rest of the way passed in silence.

That step, that one step... And evil thing. It creaked and groaned every time she walked on it. Oh, how she wished that the landowner had fixed it. And why where these stairs even wood? Why weren't they stone like most sane people would have them? _Crack!_

She fell. A white shoe disappeared into darkness as a midnight glove shot out and caught her underneath her arm. She would have broken her leg.

Isabel blinked. "Grell-" He simply grunted, pulling her delicate body up and onto the next step.

And with that, the silence grew even more unbearable up until they reached her door. "Thank you," she whispered just barely loud enough to hear.

He flicked hair away as he dropped his face to examine his nails. "It was not a problem."

This was strange. Why did he care? She was simply... a human. Boredom could lead anyone to do strange things. She figured that he was only interested. That was correct, right? He should have let her hit the floor. She would have broken her leg and he wouldn't have cared. It was obvious that... that maybe he was...

"The day was enjoyable, Isabel," he said into the silence, his voice echoing around the darkly painted hallway.

"A-ah, yes! It was, thank you." She turned, quickly inserting her silver key into the lock and turning it. The door swung open...

... and something strange flew out to her side, clasping tightly onto Grell's neck and smashing him painfully into the wall.

"Ah, so this is where you were," an irritated voice called out from inside the door. Another shinigami, she assumed. Though she really didn't put much thought into it as she quickly ran to the redhead's side.

"Grell!"

William turned his head slightly and glanced at the girl before he returned his attention to the whimpering mess before him. "Sutcliff, you have not shown up at the association for _two_ days straight. Explain yourself."

He simply whimpered louder, his teeth bared as he struggled to pull the scythe away from his neck with black-gloved hands.

The short-haired reaper narrowed his eyes as he pushed the scythe further, causing Grell to let out a squeak as ruby started to wet the skin of his neck. "Will-" Acidic eyes narrowed further, causing Isabel to gulp, not knowing what to do. Grell simply stayed silent as he let his hands drop.

"E-excuse me sir, but must you be so-"

"I suggest you keep your nose out of reaper affairs, human," William snapped, his gaze hard and cold. "And stay away from this pathetic excuse if you know what's good for you."

The girl grasped the cold metal and looked up at him with a pleading gaze. "Please, this is m-my fault. D-don't kill him."

An eyebrow twitched as he let his scythe unextend Grell quickly gasped for air and clung to Isabel. "Kill him? Absolutely not. It will be up to the higher-ups to decide what to do with him. Especially now that I know the situation." His eyes flashed. "Let's go, Sutcliff."

The redhead whined, flinching when the cold eyes flashed to him once more. Slowly dragging himself off the floor, he glanced to Isabel before he shuffled over to William with his head hung low.

Isabel watched helplessly as the obviously superior reaper opened a portal and shoved Grell inside before following suit himself. The circle of light closed quickly and silently, leaving her alone. Sighing, she got up and dusted her dress off.

 **Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter! I have been busy, and with school coming up I'll be even busier. Please don't hate me for it. ^^"**


	3. The Circle Room

**Here is the reason for such a short chapter:**

 **I put what I had so far into word counter and it told me that I had 666 words. I apologize, but I just couldn't resist.**

* * *

"Here again, I see!"

"Mr Fletcher, I ask that you lower your voice."

"Excuse me!"

"Quiet!" a voice rang out, silence enveloping the large room soon after. "William T Spears has wrote us that you, Mr Sutcliff, have taken both unapproved leave and have failed to reap the human woman Isabel Whitewood. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty."

"Absurd! I demand this insolent man be dragged to desk work!" a nasally voice screeched, clearly irked. It was obvious that this was most likely not this man's first encounter with the redhead. "Give him unpaid overtime!"

"I said silence!"

Grell scowled from where he was seated, his hands in his lap as he blew a strand of bright red hair from his eye. William stood to the right of him, his scythe at the ready as if he believed that the redhead would leap from his chair and scurry away like a disgusting rat found digging through rubbish. A few other chairs sat to the left of him, empty and pushed as close as they could be against the rectangular table that he was currently sitting at. The room was circular and large, and the walls surrounding the grey-tiled floor went up at least five feet before giving way to a much larger space where several metal seats were bolted to the floor, a small desk sitting in front of each one. Only a few of the seats were filled with reapers, black veils hiding their faces from view from the accused down below.

One seat sat directly in the middle and raised up at least one foot higher than all the rest. A tall man sat there, his acidic gaze piercing through the thin fabric that covered his wrinkled face. His lips set into a grim line as one of his hands clamped around a small quill pen, a bottle of ink sitting half empty near the edge of the worn wooden desk. Not a single sheet of paper sat in front of him. Instead, he scratched random symbols into the wood subconsciously.

The man speaking leaned forward, a small pink tongue running over his cracked lips, leaving behind a thin trail of shimmering saliva. "It has been proven multiple times to be true, Sutcliff. There is no need to deny it."

The redhead sat silent, William shifting his head slightly to stare at him from the corner of his eye. Another second went by and the tall reaper narrowed his eyes. Taking a step toward the quiet reaper, he prodded him sharply in the side with the tip of his scythe.

"Watch it!" he screeched, his eyes suddenly becoming lively. "You could have stabbed me!"

"Ah, so that is how to get your attention. I shall use it more in the future."

"Are you even listening to me!?"

"Mr Sutcliff! We are no longer asking you to actively participate. We are telling you this: You are charged with what has been previously stated, and are sentenced to three months in the local reaper prison based on your previous crime records, as it seems you have not been punished enough."

"I plead not guilty!"

"And I say you are guilty!" the nasally voice shouted back again, a tall, wiry man near the very left of the small congregation seeming to be the source. "Shut up if you know what's good for you!"

Letting out a sigh, the lead man stood up. "Mr Spears, I ask that you take him away."

"No!" Grell growled, quickly getting up from his chair. William was on him in a flash, grabbing his arm roughly and holding his scythe blade against his neck.

"Sutcliff, listen to me. Struggle and you might make this worse for yourself."

The redhead shoved him off, running toward a hastily opened portal that popped into existence in front of him. "I won't!" he shouted, jumping into it just as William was about to tackle him. The circle closed with a pop, and he sighed in relief


	4. Mr Knox

"And what do we have here?"

"Mr Knox, please, this is urgent! I need your help!"

"What for, sweetheart?" the reaper drawled, bringing a finger up to his mouth and picking at his teeth as he shifted slightly on his barstool to look at her, the lens of his glasses briefly reflecting light.

Isabel took a step forward and grabbed his sleeve, her fingers curling around the fabric as she bit her lip. "Please…"

"Not interested."

"It's about Grell."

The beer moving to his lips stopped, his fingers moving a bit from the collected moisture on the glass. "It's about senpai, huh? Now I'm listenin'."

The brunette's eyes lit up slightly in hope as she released her grip on his suit jacket. "A tall man with brown hair - a reaper like you - took him away."

Ronald huffed, taking a swig of his beer before setting the drink down onto the counter with a thump loud enough to turn the head of the bartender. "Listen girl, I don't have much power in this particular area. If there's anythin' that needs to be fixed because of Sutcliff-senpai, then I'm not the person you should be goin' to. In fact, the person who took him away… his name was probably William T Spears. He's my _boss_ ," he emphasized.

The girl frowned at him, the corners of her lips turning down ever so slightly.

"You know, that's not very ladylike of ya."

Her frown grew as she crossed her arms, moving her legs into position as if she were blocking his path, though he wasn't actually planning on going anywhere. "I asked for your help. I _need_ your help. I implore you!"

Sighing, Ronald took another swig from his alcoholic drink as he leaned forward, putting his weight into his legs. "Tell ya what: I know of a person. Not sure if he will even still be where I last remember hearin' about him, but I do know that if ya give him a good laugh he'll practically do anythin'. Still want to hear?"

She nodded.

"Alright, this guy's name is Undertaker. Well… Technically that's not his _real_ name, but I don't think anyone ever really cares anymore." He shifted in his seat again as if he were uncomfortable, leaning back against the counter and setting his drink onto the oaktop. "Anyhow, he's a deserter. Ya know… he used to work at the same place that Sutcliff-senpai and I work at, but he just up and left one day. They sent out a few reapers to look for him, but he never turned up. After a while we did find out where he was hidin', but we kinda just decided to leave him be." He raised a brow at her expression. "Right, you just need the address."

Isabel let out a small sigh of relief, one of her fingers looping around one of the loose pieces of ribbon that was hanging down her dress. "It's wonderful that you finally understand that, Mr Knox," she huffed out, brushing out a strange bump in the fabric of her dress.

The blond rolled his eyes. "Alright, so I don't have the _exact_ address, but I can give ya the details of where it is. Do ya know London pretty well?"

She nodded again. 

"Great. Then to begin, I should probably state that what you're lookin' for is a funeral parlor. Can't really say much on that, but I believe that it might be the only one in town. If ya happen to know someone who died then ya might have even met the guy."

Isabel blinked, bringing a finger up to her chin in thought. "As a matter of fact, I do believe I have… Thank you, Mr Knox!" she shouted as she turned and ran out the door of the bar, bumping into someone on the way out and offering a quick word of apology before making her way down the street.

Ronald blinked, grinning as the man walked into the bar and pulled off his hat. "Yo Ronald, save me a seat?"

"There's always gonna be a seat for you, Eric."

 **Once again, I apologize for the short chapter, but this time the chapter (at least to me) felt like it had come to a natural end. Don't hate me too much for it, okay? Though I am happy that I got to bring in the great and fabulous grim reaper Eric Slingby. There's a reason he made an appearance anyway. In the story both Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby are going to be alive and kickin'! Sorry if that disappoints some of you (though I bet it really doesn't). The events of _The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World_ do not take place here, and the reapers introduced in the play will have important roles in my plot, though I'm not saying how. ;) **


	5. Scorpion Grasses

The sound of a person scrambling on the cobblestone, the sound of a portal snapping shut.

Grell huffed as he ran and made his way toward who knew where, fear clearly shone in his eyes. "No way would it only be imprisonment. No way would they leave me alone." His ramblings continued between his short puffs of air, his breathing becoming erratic as he bumped into a few strangers and crashed into a wall momentarily before starting to run again. "No!"

A portal opened a few feet away, and Grell hissed as he leaped behind a group of rubbish containers and leaned against them out of sight like a coward as the sounds of several shoes clopping onto stone echoed around the narrow street and off of the nearby buildings. "Are you sure the portal opened here?"

"Yes sir."

"You are to find the reaper Grell Sutcliff. Do not harm him unless he resists. Are my orders clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"Then get going! He could have left the vicinity by now!"

Two reapers peeled away from the small group, rushing into the engulfing darkness. He had been held by William for an hour, and the meeting had last about thirty minutes. Though he felt like it had been much, much shorter, the now dark streets were proof of the setting sun.

Waiting for the final reaper to turn and head back into the portal, Grell let out a small sigh as the streets grew quiet once more. Turning his head from side to side, he lept from his hiding place and scowled slightly as he leaned against the brick wall and brought up a foot, his heel hanging from the bottom of the shoe. "Useless," he muttered, taking off his treasured footwear and curling his fingers around the material, pattering down the street. Finally... If only he could find a place to hide for while. Perhaps...

Honestly! What was he thinking? Of course he shouldn't involve the human any longer. It would be dangerous to both him and her, and he was in enough trouble already, though... He knew that he would not be able to return to the dispatch for a while, if at all. He didn't want to be locked up in a cell again. He didn't want to be imprisoned in the dark abyss that was his loneliness, with only the occasional murmur of the prison reaper to keep him company. Most would consider him one who overreacts. After all, how bad could it be? He snorted. They wouldn't understand.

A drop of rain crashed into the side of his cheek, and he scowled as he turned into a dark alley and slowed to a fast pace, his bare feet causing quiet sounds to bounce off of the walls of the nearby buildings, the smell of something long dead wafting up to greet his nostrils. _Honestly... the way these humans live is absolutely wretched._ And yet... what made them so happy? What gave them the will to continue? Why wasn't he allowed to have some of that will?

Wiping these thoughts away with another one (one about his current situation, of course), Grell leaned against the brick wall of a squat bakery, the red of its bricks faded and sad, almost as if they longed for a better view of the world... a better world full of color. At one point they had been strong, colorful bricks, catching the eye of young men and women and luring them into the building's depths, the thick scent of baked bread floating on the London breeze. As lustrous as they were at one point, they were now dull and brittle, the young gentlemen and ladies now old folks simply passing by out of sympathy for the poor bakery, dusty memories of the times of old luring them inside once more.

Grell remembered when the shop brought in crowds of people on market days, and those few who were not afraid of the morning fog in the early mornings. He remembered the red of the bricks-oh how he had remembered!

Was he a lustrous red brick, or had he dulled and crumbled into an unrecognizable heap, forgotten and uncared for by the people passing by in their high hats and walking sticks carved from expensive wood and silver?

No, he was a forgotten relic. Left to rot and only be cared for by the caretaker of the poor establishment.

Sighing to himself, he ran a hand through his hair as he frowned to himself, not feeling much like himself as he started up a slow pace, exiting the alley and entering through the side of a street. And then... he growled as something crashed into his chest, toppling him to the ground and almost knocking his glasses directly off the bridge of his nose. He bit his lip and went to shout at the woman before he stopped himself, blinking as his eyes met a familiar face.

Isabel let out a small noise, quickly pulling herself from the redhead. "G-Grell!"

"Isabel dear?"


	6. Silken

"Grell!" Isabel exclaimed, one curl bouncing upon her shoulder as she smoothed out her dress. "I was just searching for you!" Reaching downward with a dainty arm, she grabbed his hand and helped him up to his feet. He immediately stumbled. "Oh my! Whatever happened to your footwear?" A small frown creased the corners of her mouth, and she gazed upon his face.

Grell's acidic gaze fell, his head turned to the side. "You should go, dear." The words were strained, and there was a bit of fear laced into his tone. "Really, you should. They're coming for me-probably searching all of London!"

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

The brunette tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, playing with the tip of her glove's index finger and rubbing the silken fabric between two fingers. "There is a place . . . that I could take you. I wonder . . . have you been there? The man's name is Undertaker. Actually . . . ." She frowned, thinking deeply on this. "That's simply his occupation, now isn't it?"

"Undertaker!? That man is-"

"the only source of protection you - no, we - have as of now," Isabel finished, eyes shining. "I've spoken with your friend. Knox, was it?"

"Ronnie?"

"Yes, him."

". . . Honestly, Isabel, you are a piece of work." A piece of red hair was blown from his face, and a hint of sharp, shark-like teeth was revealed between two pale lips. A black glove was pulled from his hand and was dragged across the moist skin of his forehead. "Very well then. Lead the way!"

Her delicate hand was held out, and Grell was brought back to the fact that this woman lived alone. A woman live alone? How? More hair was blown from his face, and he grunted in annoyance. Isabel took it to be for her. "Oh, I-I apologize. Have I made you uncomfortable?" Of course, she had grown rather fond of the redhead in the short period she had known him, but she was still quite nervous of his reactions and emotions. After all, he was a flaming hot mess of the stuff, and she couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

"Oh no, hon, you're alright." His palm clasped around her small hand, and she smiled.

"Very well then. Shall we leave?"

"Well I'm not going to just sit here like a sitting duck and wait get caught." A small noise escaped Isabel's lips, and Grell came to realize that it was a laugh.


	7. Giggles

Giggles, giggles, giggles.

"Oh my, oh my!" a hysterical voice laughed, a pot rolling onto its side and shattering upon the stone floor. The woman standing just in the middle of the shop was outlined by candlelight, a taller form almost huddled behind her. "Ye have the most interesting of jokes, ye do! Come, come~" Fabric ruffled, and a small puff of dust soared through the air and settled upon Isabel's nose. She sneezed.

"Honestly, you really should clean up this dreadful drag of a place."

"Why? My guests don't seem to mind~" the silver-haired man, almost slumped over as he shuffled over to the creaky door leading inside to the rest of the shop, giggled out between two pale lips. The candlelight flickered off of the flesh as a small, pink creature flicked out from between the lips and wetted them. "C'mere then, dearie. Don't be shy! Ah, and the one next to ye too~!" Grell jumped, a bit creeped out by the other reaper's demeanor, and peered from behind Isabel as the door, though agonizingly slow, opened to reveal the dark interior of the room in the back of the funeral parlor. Undertaker giggled once more before disappearing inside, his silver hair sweeping out behind him before it, too, was swallowed up by the impending darkness.

Grell gulped, and Isabel sighed as she felt him take her hand in his as if he were trying to comfort _her._ "Grell-"

Undertaker's lurking form was seen leaned up against a dark, sleek coffin, newly shined and prepared. Inside sat the cold body of a woman, and a single black nail brushed against her fair cheek. "So pretty . . . don't you think?"

"S-she's darling," the chocolate-haired woman forced out, her own eyes now just as terrified as Grell's.

Another bark of laughter escaped from his throat. "Oh my, ye don't think she's pretty? How sad, how sad! Ye don't know beauty when ye see it! Ye don't, ye don't!" His form swayed, and the hat plopped upon his head slid to the right, the long piece of fabric swaying in the breeze that came in from only God knew where. Undertaker turned then, and a small glint could be seen from between two mats of silvery bangs before it disappeared. "So ye wish to hide out here for a while? From Spears~?"

It was now Grell's turn to furrow his brow. "Where did you hear that from?"

"I have ears everywhere, dearie!" A long nail came up and pointed to his right ear. "Shh, listen . . . ."

"I hear nothing."

"Listen!"

The room grew deathly silent, and suddenly Isabel found the darkness quite eerie, especially when her eyes caught the manic grin and shine of white from between the tall male's lips. A creak sounded on a floorboard, as Grell shifted his weight, and finally Isabel had enough. "What nonsense! I hear absolutely nothing!"

"Nothing indeed!" he laughed, swaying more. The hat magically had straightened itself upon his head in the small amount of time that Isabel had not been looking. The room grew silent for a few more minutes, and the two nearest the door shifted uncomfortably, and then . . . .

Someone shouted. The voice was young, annoyed, and impatient. "Undertaker!"


	8. Death of a Bachelorette

One would say that the pair that entered the establishment were ones of wealth-much wealth, one might say.

The coat resting upon the first's shoulders, a young boy about thirteen, was of a navy blue. Frills sprung from the breast of the jacket whilst a soft fur wrapped around the edges of the wrists. The pants were nothing of note, unfortunately. However, it was the eyes that captivated Isabel. They were cold-cold like the loss of innocence, cold like the darkness of a man's heart, cold like the unforgiving death that constantly allured the fancy of many.

All of this was noted within a short few seconds, and the woman's gaze snapped upward as the second made his entrance. Ah, she knew of this man. How could she not? On that fateful day, when nothing was as it seemed, and the supernatural had become real. Yes! How could she possibly forget?

"Undertaker," the young voice repeated, more irked than the first time he had spoken. "I've come for information. Don't dally; I require it _now._ " The taller man who had entered behind the boy, Grell's "Sebas-chan", angled his handsome gaze downward toward him, one brow raised. Standing off to the side, almost enveloped by the impeding shadow from the other room, were Grell and Isabel. Of course, it was quite plausible that in a moment or two Isabel would find herself standing next to an empty space.

The noble (the boy), turned to glance up at the taller, the candlelight briefly reflecting upon his black leather gloves, most likely lined with the finest silk. The light shown scarlet, like blood upon those child's hands who had matured, before it quickly vanished. "Undertaker!"

A silver-haired man appeared behind the two standing in the back doorway, and the brown-haired woman almost jumped in fright as he spoke. "Yes, yes, yes Milord!"

Grell stirred then, almost as if he had just noticed the others' entrance. "Sebas-chan!" he exclaimed, blinking his acidic eyes once, twice, thrice times so as to make sure that the demon was indeed real. "Do entertain me with a kiss~!" Falling forward dramatically, Isabel had to wonder once again why, in fact, she could be found falling forward with him. Why? Ah, that's right, he had been holding her hand for God only knew why. Landing upon the floor was in no way amusing, and Isabel could find her patience waning. Of course, she wasn't the only one.

"Oh!" Undertaker barked, a few giggles beginning to fill his chest. The child stepped forward.

"Are you to provide us with information, or have we wasted our time in traveling here?" Anger was something Sebastian had noticed in his young master often, and he tilted his head as he watched the child. A year or so prior, one would have noticed that Ciel had been calm and collected. Now, however, all they would see was a mess of emotions. A bit of a curve could be seen upon his lips, angling upwards. Oh my, his young master was starting to become a man.

"In due time, Milord!"

Undertaker appeared to be holding back. Perhaps he sensed a turn of the situation in the near future, or perhaps not. He giggled once Grell stood, Isabel's hand still held firmly in his own, and grumbled. "Sebas-chan! You're suppose to catch a fair maiden once she's fallen!"

The raven head turned toward the other. "A maiden, you say? I see none." It became quite obvious that he had known of the other's presence within the shop.

"You're mean!"

"I tell the absolute truth."

Ciel turned then, his eyes falling upon the girl held at the reaper's side. "And who's this? A customer?"

Undertaker giggled then. "Non'!"

Isabel relinquished her hold and slipped her delicate hand from Grell's own. Her shoes made no noise as she moved away, hoping to find a safe-haven where she could avoid these people. Sebastian smirked and stepped forward. "Well, Grell? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I am a beautiful maiden! You'd best to remember that!" His gaze turned pleading, and he approached the other male. "Sebas-chan, give me a chaaaaance!" However, something dangerous glinted within his eyes. Perhaps the events of the day would finally cause him to snap.

Amber eyes flashed as if they sensed an impending annoyance. "I'd rather date a mule."

"You!" he hissed, his flashy red chainsaw suddenly appearing in his two hands. The redhead sprung forward, a bit pissed, and stabbed out. "I'll kill you!"

Someone screamed, garment flashed, chocolate brown locks instead of raven.

And scarlet sprayed.


End file.
